Space
by Dittolicous
Summary: "If not for the sound of his breathing, of his blood pumping in his ears, he would of assumed he'd gone deaf. He gave up talking to himself long ago. It wasted precious air and did nothing to soothe his nerves." Benny Backstory Drabble.


I got the idea for this after that Tumblr post that mentioned the prototype Lego Movie script and had this 'gem':

"Benny's (his name was fucking Benny "blue" chu") backstory was pretty sad, he mentioned that he got lost in space once and cracked his helmet, the lack of oxygen screwed him up so much that he now converses with a mop that became his only friend in space (which he does a ventriloquist style voice for)"

And because I'm a horrible person, I had to write something to tie back to that, sorta. 3

Anyhow, if you're going to read this, you should 10000000% listen to "_Aurora Borealis_" from "_Gravity_" as you read.

Enjoy and please tell me what you think. ^_^

* * *

**"Space"**

* * *

Silence.

Hard, cold, silence.

If not for the sound of his breathing, of his blood pumping in his ears, he would of assumed he'd gone deaf. He gave up talking to himself long ago. It wasted precious air and did nothing to soothe his nerves.

Not that it would really make a difference at this point.

Warm breath fogging his helmet, he wondered how much longer he had. Shivers ran up his spine. Hands twitched, wishing for a warm one to grasp them. The crack in his once pristine helmet surely sped things up, but by how much? Despite his apathy at this point, he was still too afraid to look at his oxygen tank.

It would be too real, too _grounding_ to see where the little red hand pointed.

Though, for once in his life, he wanted nothing more than to have his feet firmly planted on solid earth. To be where others could find him, were he could have some sensation of solidness.

He shivered again, back aching from the chill.

Floating helplessly through space gave him far too much time to think.

He thought of situations were he'd been found, situations where he'd drift until the drowsiness took over, situations where some debris broke his suit beyond help and he suffered for only a moment.

A small whisper filtered into his mind.

_'Take the helmet off.'_

He contemplated it for a moment.

His heart beat hard in his ears and dread, that for even a second he could consider that option, filled him.

But what were his other options, really? Suffer until the air went thin and his lungs went hot from deprivation? To starve or dehydrate before even that?

It wasn't like he was going to be found anytime soon. For too long he drifted in directions unknown. They would never be able to locate him time. It hurt to much to keep hoping for something so unlikely.

He'd be lucky if they'd even find his body.

Space truly was a large body after all. You could spend a life time and a half exploring, and not even put a dent in the tiny crumb of space you had chosen.

It was reality, and he just had to come to terms with that.

His last sight would be of twinkling stars, burning eons away. Of asteroids and planets he'd never get to study. When he was a child, this would have been his perfect choice setting.

Now, all he wanted to do was cry and play in the dirt.

It's funny how things change.

Except it's not. At all. What he would give to undo this all, to be found, and taken home. To be have some feeling other than the icy chill.

His heart ached for his friends. To here their voices, to feel their warmth.

He's so cold.

So scared.

So _alone_.

If only his rocket had been sturdier. It only took one tiny fault in the make and the whole thing fell apart before he could even signal for help. At the very least, he was certain his colleagues, his dear friends, noticed his absence and maybe even the jagged bits of his ship.

Or at least he was hoping they had. Like him, they would often get wrapped up in the joy of their work and not always notice what went on around them. Memories float through him and he lets out a small chuckle.

That flash of mirth doesn't last long as another shiver wracks his body.

He tries not to sigh. Precious oxygen and all that.

Was there too little time or too much?

Uncertain.

Shifting, he brought his hands up, reaching outwards, as if reaching for the planets so far off in the distance. As if he could grasp them and pull himself to their sturdy land.

He stopped and just looked at his hands. They were beginning to numb from the frosty space around him. They flexed and he almost let out a giggle. He's not even sure why he would giggle. They're just hands, hidden in the thick fabric of his blue suit. What was there to laugh about?

Again, flexing, he couldn't find a reason.

Perhaps it was the first sign of his spiral into insanity? Floating, alone, for an extended period of time, could do that to people, you know?

Or maybe it was just the lack of oxygen as it finally reached the final stretch.

Either/or, he really couldn't be too bothered. Everything had to come to an end sometime.

Truly this was his epiphany about how morbid he was. Had he always been this way?

Maybe.

Who cares? It's not like he's trying to make an impression or anything. He's pretty certain the stars don't care if he's a Debby Downer.

This time he does let out the giggle.

It's not funny, not at all, but his insides just tickle as he thinks.

Laughing should be the last thing he'd do in this situation, it's a well know way to lose your breath, and yet the giggles left his mouth and turned into laughter, which turned into loud chortling. Soon, he was even howling at this unknown joke.

His ribs throbbed. His lungs began to burn.

He couldn't even see outside his helmet anymore, it was fogged completely by his breaths.

But he didn't care.

Even as he began to gasp and wheeze, he couldn't muster up an amount of concern.

Nothing, yet everything, was so hilarious.

And as the specks of darkness began to steal his sight, his stomach tickled.

He didn't _care_.

Cold, sharp wetness touched his face.

Sight gone, lungs red hot, he flitted away.

_'I'm so scared. I don't want to be alone anymore.'_

* * *

His eyes shot open and his body racked as he took in a sharp breath. Warm hands held his own and ran through his hair. He couldn't understand why, but the warmth they shared made his heart soar.

As he shook of the drowsiness, his vision cleared and his eyes met Wyld Style's concerned ones. The Space Man could only dumbly stare as his mind cleared. He realized his head was on her lap and her's were the hands in his hair, caressing him soothingly. Where was his helmet? He could have sworn he was wearing it when…

When…?

His mind clicked. It was movie night with his friends. Did he doze off? He must have. Oops. Heck, he must have drifted off pretty early, he couldn't even remember what the movie was about. He thinks it had something to do with a space lady? Maybe. He couldn't be sure.

"Benny?"

His eyes left Wyld Styles gentle ones and met the speaker's, Emmet's. He realized the rest of himself was sprawled over the workers lap, though his friend didn't seem to mind. It was his hands where Benny's rested. He giggled, how strange. Why had the worked taken them? Did he accidentally take them thinking they were his girlfriends'? That's just silly, she doesn't wear blue gloves, how could Emmet miss that?

Wait, is he speaking again?

"-orried! You got really stiff all of the sudden and started shaking and when we tried to wake you up, you just…kinda laughed?" Emmet looked very off-put, worry for his space-brained friend practically radiating off of him. "So we tried to make you comfortable and stuff. Batman and Bad Cop said it would help… Something about Night Terrors…" Emmet let the sentence drift off, gripping Benny's hands tighter.

The two mentioned shifted seemingly nervously in their place as Benny glanced over.

He could feel the eyes of his friends boar into him, as they silently watched him.

Unikitty spoke softly. "What were you dreaming about?"

Benny blinked at him groggily, then looked from one friend to the other. Unikitty looked teary eyed, Metal Beard seemed nervous, Batman looked slightly angrier than usual. Even Bad Cop looked mildly concerned. Or at least he kinda thinks he does. Those sun glassed make it hard to tell sometimes, but he likes to think the Cops care.

Bwuh, he just couldn't get his brain fuzzies to clear. The sudden wake left him aggravatingly tired. Stupid nap, not even doing it's job.

Realizing his construction buddy was still waiting for a reply, he tried to think back to his slumber reality but it was all a blur now. He was distracted by his friends heart beats, which he could swear he felt through their hands. But that might be the sleep talking. With a lethargic shrug and a smile, he answered with the only thing he could clearly remember.

"Space."

* * *

**FIN**

* * *

Well? 8D


End file.
